Page 61 of Play The Game

“She’s fine. We need to go. We need to find the others, fuck,” I mumble, and he tucks me under his arm.

“Avery’s already sent a text to ask why we’re late to lunch. Let’s go eat and you can tell us what the hell is happening now.”

I nod distractedly and let him guide me to the dining hall. The others have already grabbed food for us and are sitting in our usual seats. I’m relieved there’s a little buffer of empty chairs around them, and one look at the thunder on Ash’s face tells me he’s the reason.

Harley calls out to us as soon as Blaise has me in earshot, but Blaise can only shrug back at him.

I step up to my usual seat next to Avery but I take a second to think before I sit down. Apparently that’s the wrong thing to do because the tension at the table suddenly heightens until I’m choking on it.

“What the fuck has happened now?” Ash hisses, and I quickly drop to my seat.

“I’m trying to decide if I should say it here or drag Harley away so he doesn’t rage out and flip the whole fucking table,” I mumble, and Ash’s eyes narrow.

Sighing, I turn to Harley before blurting it out. “The Jackal sent men after your mom.”

His face shuts down, his body turning to stone, and his cutlery drops to crash down on his plate. I reach over and grab his hand, squeezing until I know he’s listening.

“Illi dealt with them. He called to let me know he’s staying with her for now, but we need to move her somewhere more secure, somewhere far enough away that the Jackal forgets about her until we can… deal with him.”

Avery immediately takes over. She’s out of her seat and snapping orders down the phone as she moves to the door for privacy. We’re too close to where the teachers are sitting for comfort. The Jackal has eyes in the school and we still don’t know who they are.

“I’m sorry,” I croak, and Harley’s eyes flash up to meet mine.

“Don’t apologize for that sick fuck; this is payback for us provoking him. Well, fuck him. I’m not giving you up,” he says, his free hand closing over the little gold locket at his neck.

I feel like a monster.

All my bullshit is at our door.

Ash watches us both and then says, “Liam’s been trying to kill her for years, Mounty. Adding the Jackal to the mix barely changes things. We all have demons stalking us, don’t take it out on yourself.”

My eyes flick over to him. “What’s eating you today?”

His mask settles into place, and he turns back to his food. “Joey.”

I groan. Haven’t we gotten away from that psycho? “What’s the little fucker done now?”

Ash gives me a curt shake of his head that I interpret as not here but could be fuck off for all I know. Blaise snorts and starts on his lunch.

Harley turns his hand to lace his fingers through mine. “I guess I’m going to have to thank Illi now, aren’t I?” he says, a little wryly.

I fight the smile threatening to break out over my face and say, “He loves a good muffin basket. Even better if there’s blueberry.”

By the end of the day Avery has Harley’s mom transferred to a safe facility in Switzerland with a permanent armed guard. Illi stays with her until she’s on the plane and, though he won’t admit it, Harley is fucking relieved to have him there.

I still feel guilty.

I go through the motions for the rest of the day; dinner with Avery, studying with Blaise, then we work on my singing until Avery comes home. Blaise notices how crappy I’m feeling and slips me his iPod before he leaves, kissing me sweetly until Avery bitches him out on her way to the shower.

I climb straight into bed, messing around with the iPod to find a song that will help slow my brain down, when I hear the sound of keys in the door. I frown at the sound. It’s barely ten; Harley never gets here before midnight.

Ash locks the door behind himself and stomps over to my bed, pulling the sweatshirt he’s wearing off and climbing in wearing only his boxer shorts. He sighs and flings an arm over his eyes, channeling the drama of his morbid best friend, but the move only makes his chest look broader.

Oh, fuck.

I try to focus on the blank mask over his features, because something has pushed him to come here, but he really is something else to look at. A half-naked Ash Beaumont has angels freaking weeping at his feet.

I clear my throat twice while I attempt to focus on something other than his nipples, but it’s hard work. He snorts at me, rolling over to tug me into his arms, and the icy depths of his eyes cool me off a little.